


das Schicksal warf mich auf einen warmen Stern

by moon_waves



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_waves/pseuds/moon_waves
Summary: They hide in plain view, hold onto the anchor of the boat – aware that their friends are on the other side, two still abord and two deep in the water as well, howling with laughter – and kiss breathlessly, again and again and again until Richard feels a part of his heart has irremediably gotten lost in the waves of the Caribbean sea.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	das Schicksal warf mich auf einen warmen Stern

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Gwen for having beta-read this fic. All remaining errors are mine.

The warm Caribbean Sea rolls over his skin and he swims deeper into it, marveling at the clarity of the water, smiling a bit around his tuba as a multi-colored fish graze against his ankle. He can hardly believe the colour of the sand underneath him, basks in the green-blue shades stretching all over him. He vaguely hears the animated discussions of his bandmates not far, but here, in his little corner where he can explore in peace, it feels as if nothing will ever be able to reach him.

He spots a shadow from the corner of his eye and swiftly moves forward, laughter bubbling in his throat. The rubber of the tuba tastes a bit salty on his lips but he doesn’t care, too amused by the shadow following him, matching his pace. He circles the corals in a teasing back-and-forth with his companion, stopping in his tracks only as he spots two giant tortoises swimming not far ahead of him. He stares at them until they disappear into the dark blue depth somewhere in front of him, and starts swimming back to the shore, blinded by the beauties of the ocean.

His loyal shadow mirrors his movements, turns himself as well until they are both facing the same direction, and waits for him to start moving again, fond amusement written on his face. Till looks like a king in his kingdom here and Richard feels himself falling in love all over again.

He can feel the salt attacking his hair but he doesn’t care. The wooden tiles under his feet are swinging slightly with each wave that gently hits the boat he is currently sitting on, and it feels a bit like a dream, being there, in such a heavenly place, with his friends. He stares at the horizon laid out in front of him, barely able to tear his eyes from the myriads of greens and blues shining brightly under the sun. His swimming trunks are still somewhat wet and he considers going into the water again – but this time without any tuba. It feels out of time here, despite the numerous tourists boats he can spot every now and then, but for once, the thought doesn’t bother him.

They’re just strangers lost in the crowd here.

He hesitates for a moment, and then wills his eyes away from the sea to stare at his bandmates – messing around in and outside the boat without a care in the world, as he likes to see them, more relaxed here than all of them usually are back home – and finally makes up his mind.

Once again a siren follows him, luring him away from the boat and into the vastness of the sea.

He is never afraid then.

He is alone with his thoughts, underwater, but for once he doesn’t even pay attention to them, doesn’t listen to the ramble of his mind, too focused that he is on breathing correctly – hold your breath, exhale softly, come back up, inhale, exhale, breath again, take a big inspiration and come back under. The plastic glasses are too tight against his skin but at least they allow him to _see_ , and so he does.

He swims, remains careful of not going too far from the boat, but not staying too close either, turns and turns in circles, always shadowed.

Till goes deeper, farther than he dares to try, remains underwater longer than he ever would, and he watches, lured, fascinated. There is no hesitation here, no attempt at making himself smaller, less conspicuous – Till just _is_ , and swims as if he was born for it.

Maybe he was – but Richard will never regret having torn him away from a quiet life by the countryside.

The stage – the heat of the music – this is where they belong.

Both of them.

They hide in plain view, hold onto the anchor of the boat – aware that their friends are on the other side, two still abord and two deep in the water as well, howling with laughter – and kiss breathlessly, again and again and again until Richard feels a part of his heart has irremediably gotten lost in the waves of the Caribbean sea.

Till’s skin is warm against his, his lips chaffed and salty, and he tastes better than he has had in a long time, sun-kissed and born again from the water. Richard’s hands glide over his body, hold onto his arms, safe in the knowledge that Till will keep them both afloat – or they will go down together, and come back to the surface as one.

There is no doubt to have here.

A party is organized on the beach of the hotel as soon as the sun sets down, and they join it with easy smiles and a relaxed attitude. A bonfire is lit up on the beach under the stars – grilled fish and ripe fruits and local alcohol. The mood is great, the girls are pretty and drinks flow freely. Embers jump up and up before falling down on the beach and he avoids them with a smile, almost without realizing it, too used to the proximity of fire for his instinct not to kick in, even in such a relaxed state.

Tourists they are, nameless faces in the crowd, and so they remain, laughing, talking and dancing, flirting a bit with the girls around, clapping as someone pulls out a guitar and starts playing old eighties tunes.

He feels a bit nostalgic there, meets Till’s eyes across the bonfire and moves deeper into the shadows, walks in the direction of the sea and sits down on the beach, watches the moon glitter over the sea.

There are no words between them when Till joins him, sitting close enough that their arms are touching. The party is still going behind them – somewhere to their right – and Richard chuckles a bit suddenly amused by the contrast with their silent bubble, before lying down on the still-warm sand, hands cushioning his head.

The sky is different at night here – he doesn’t recognize the constellations, no matter how hard he tries, but it doesn’t matter, not when the moon is still there, shining softly upon the sea.

Not when there is Till at his side, staring at the sea, one hand on his knee, warm and heavy, comforting and reassuring.

They don’t need words – not here, not now, not in this parenthesis from the tumult of their life.

Not when their hands find one another, in silence.

At peace.

* * *

The room they’re renting is one of the quietest of the resort. Luckily for them, they don’t have any neighbors – a group of tourists had to cancel their reservations for reasons he remains quite uncertain about, and that means they’re pretty much alone in the two-floors building where they’re spending their holidays.

The bay window is wide open, the light, white curtains flowing softly in the light breeze coming from the sea, and Richard dozes off on the king-size bed, lulled by the song of the waves not far away. A smile stretches his lip when the warm body next to him half-wakes up from his nap and rolls on the side, placing a hand on his hip before dozing off again.

It’s too hot to be curled against one another but he places his hand on top of Till’s and intertwines their fingers before falling asleep again.

A storm breaks out in the morning, with pouring rain that would stop even the most amphibian of them from going out. They settle on separate corners of their suite, Till with his poetry notebook and him with his guitar, working on a few melodies that do not seem to want to leave his mind. He stops every now and then to stare at the spectacle outside, almost soothed by the noise. This is nothing like what he can see in Berlin, and there is something fascinating about the way nature all but disappears behind the pouring rain.

He can barely see the sea anymore, covered in foam and gone from a bright blue-green to a hushed greyish blue.

The palette of colours is fascinating. One might almost be tempted to become a painter.

It is only early in the afternoon – once they have brunched, and showered, and gotten ready – that the rain finally stops. From their windows, the world looks cleansed, and Richard marvels at it, curled on the couch, until hair rises at the back of his neck, tickled by the weight of a gaze focused on him.

He turns his head in the direction of the bedroom, sees Till leaning against the doorway, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, wearing nothing but a pair of white linen pants, contrasting against the golden hue of his tanned skin.

Richard blushes slightly under the warmth of forest-green eyes and swallows, throat suddenly dry, eyes going up and down Till’s body without trying to hide his appreciation.

Till’s smile grows bigger at his reaction and he extend a hand towards him, inviting.

Richard almost trips on his feet in his haste to get out off the couch and Till chuckles, fondness visible on his face.

“Don’t trip on my account,” he says with an amused voice, closing his fingers around Richard’s as soon as the guitarist is close enough. “We don’t want the afternoon to stop before it has even started, do we?”

Richard’s blush intensifies and the guitarist nudges Till backwards, a bit embarrassed at the light teasing.

“How long have you even been watching me?” he asks, trying to change the topic of the conversation.

He lets himself being tugged into the bedroom, forces himself to push back the giggle that threatens to come out of his throat, feels the warmth radiating from Till’s body – and almost bumps against him as the singer stops in the middle of the room, his back facing the wide-open bay window.

A shiver runs down his spine as Till brushes an errand strand of hair away from his face before cupping his cheek.

“Long enough to know you started considering giving Flake a run for his money, if you ever get your hands on painting material,” Till answers teasingly, his thumb drawing circles on Richard’s cheek.

Richard feels his eyelashes flutter, swallows again, and leans his cheek softly into the hand still cupping him, eyes fixed on Till’s face.

The singer gently returns his gaze, so soft and tender Richard can feel it caressing his face.

He closes his eyes when their lips meet – the touch light as a butterfly’s wings, irremediably chaste and yet he feels as if he is drowning in it.

The kiss ends – all too soon – making him open his eyes again, and Till lets go of his hand to hold onto his hip, a firm grip that sends a shiver of excitation down his spine.

“Alright?” Till murmurs, eyes twinkling, and Richard nods vigorously, pushes slightly against the hand still cupping his cheek.

Till chuckles and takes a step backwards, then another, finally a third, hands falling down to his sides.

“Take off your clothes, then,” he says in a low, heated voice.

Richard sways lightly on his feet, tries to control the blush on his cheeks – body reacting as if he were a teenage boy discovering sex, but there is nothing he can do about it – and takes off his shirt in a swift moment. It ends up as a puddle on the floor, quickly followed by his cotton pants. He stops for a brief moment, hands hovering at the hems of his boxers, and stares at Till with a raised eyebrow, slightly challenging.

Till smiles, amused, and nods for him to continue.

Richard’s boxers fall to the ground without a sound and he straightens, shivers a little as the warm breeze coming in through the window caress his body.

Till looks at him with plain hunger written all over his face, eyes dark. Richard feels himself reacts to his heavy gaze and squirms a little, hands curling into fists before he forces himself to relax. He keeps his eyes on his lover’s face, tilts his head upright as Till bridges the gap between them in a few steps, one hand settling against his hip once more.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in a low voice before kissing him.

This time, there is nothing chaste about it – only passion building up – but it doesn’t last. Till breaks the kiss much too soon, cups the back of his head, tugs very lightly at his hair and Richard bites the inside of his cheek not to moan.

“And onto the bed we go,” Till murmurs before starting to march him backwards.

Richard instinctively reaches for his arms, holds onto his biceps and has no choice but to let himself being led, following Till’s rhythm until the back of his knees hits the bedframe. He sways a little on his feet then, tightens his hold on Till before relaxing.

Till smiles gently, waits for a few seconds before nudging him onto the bed, guiding him until he is lying in the middle of the mattress, head cradled by a pillow. Richard absent-mindedly notices that the sheets have been drawn back at the foot of the bed before focusing on Till again, watching him as his lover gently ties his crossed wrists to the headboard with a red silk tie.

The tie! When they had set foot in their suite, and started putting their clothes into the closets, Richard had spotted it and had wondered why his lover had brought it, considering they were on holidays, without any event to attend to…

Well, _now_ he understood why it had found its way onto Till’s baggage.

Richard tugs at the tie lightly, realizes it’s more for show than an actual attempt at holding him prisoner, and feels his cheeks flame up all of a sudden. He wriggles a bit on the mattress, tries to force himself to relax, and turns his head to the side when he feels Till sitting on the bed next to him.

His heart is beating so fast, Richard worries it wants to break away from his ribcage.

“Relax,” Till murmurs, settling down against him, his thigh pressing against Richard’s hip.

“I’m relaxed,” Richard mutters before even thinking about it – and actually does indeed relax when Till huffs a laugh next to him before placing one hand on his stomach.

“I can see that,” he says with an amused voice and Richard pouts a little at the teasing.

He can feel the last remnant of his tension disappearing, and sees on Till’s face how his lover notices it as well.

Till pats his stomach before stretching towards the foot of the bed, reaches for the sheets and grabs them to cover Richard up to his waist.

Proof of his arousal is clearly visible and Richard squirms a bit before deciding to move one leg until his foot is firmly set against the mattress, knee pointing up to the ceiling.

Till watches him do so with an amused expression, waits until he is done before settling in position again, one hand coming to cup his cheek.

“Better, now?” he asks gently, one thumb moving back-and-forth over Richard’s cheek.

Richard hums without answering, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yes,” he murmurs finally, tilting his head until it is pressed against Till’s hand.

Till hums over him, and Richard feels the mattress dip next to him, before a light kiss is pressed against the top of his nose – and then gone, all too soon, the mattress a firm plane once more.

Richard opens one eye and stares at Till.

Till smiles.

Keeps cupping his cheek and, with his other hand, starts tracing the line of his nose. Richard opens both eyes, blushes, feels a bit ticklish but doesn’t say anything, only licks his suddenly dry lips.

Till keeps smiling, gentle, his expression too knowing, and follows another line going from his forehead to his chin. Richard’s mouth is half-open by now, he breathes a bit too loudly – or is it only in his ears? – and, the next time when Till’s finger starts tracing his lips, he licks it tentatively.

Till chuckles and moves down to kiss him again – a chaste, butterfly kiss that has him whining slightly when it’s over.

“So impatient,” Till murmurs before placing his other hand at the base of Richard’s neck.

Richard stares at him – would have glared, were he not feeling as if he was slowly but surely drowning into honey.

“I’m not,” he protests, a bit weakly, a bit out of breath.

Till’s smile grows fonder and he scratches lightly against the sensitive skin of Richard’s neck.

A full-body shiver runs through him.

“No, you’re not,” Till agrees, still gently touching his cheek. “You’re being very good.”

Richard blinks and smiles a little. He turns his head to the side, nuzzles against Till’s hand before pressing a kiss to his palm. He doesn’t miss the way Till’s hand curls against him, fingers grazing against his jaw before cupping his cheek again, and smiles a little at the reaction.

When he lays his eyes on Till’s face again, the softness of his expression makes his heart skip a beat before settling in a slow, contented rhythm.

“ _Liebes_ ,” Till murmurs before kissing him again, slowly, tenderly.

A small sound escapes Richard’s lips when they separate, and Till kisses the top of his nose again before settling on the mattress once more, sitting so close that the left side of his chest is pressed against Richard’s bent knee.

He is starting to look a little ruffled and Richard smiles at the sight, feeling warm and contented like a cat napping in a sunbeam. Till gazes at him for a moment, keeps one hand at the base of his neck and moves the other from his cheek to his bound arm.

Richard squirms a little at the hold.

“No tickling,” he murmurs, and Till shakes his head, his expression a mix of fondness and amusement.

“No tickling,” he promises, gently squeezing Richard’s bicep.

Richard slightly tilts his head upright, tries to follow his every move as Till starts drawing lines on the sensitive skin of his inner arm – shoulder to elbow, elbow to shoulder, and again. Goosebumps follow and Richard chews on his lower lip, tries hard not to make any noise, not to move, to be _good_.

Till shifts closer after a while, changes the path of his fingers – elbow to wrist, wrist to elbow – for a few back-and-forths until Richard’s breath hiccups.

He swallows loudly, closes his eyes for a moment – before they shoot open as Till intertwines their fingers together, his other hand still resting against his neck.

“I love you,” Till murmurs, serious and quiet, as if sharing a secret, and Richard feels his heart swells with love and adoration.

“Love you too,” he murmurs in return, voice catching in his throat.

This time, he moans into the kiss as Till’s lips press against his, arches his body in an attempt to feel as much of Till as possible – but his lover holds him in position against the mattress with one firm hand.

He doesn’t get to set the pace, but Till gets to kiss the breath away from him, and it is just as good.

Till shushes him when they finally separate, teasingly licks his lips, lets go of his hand before sitting a bit straighter on the bed. He brushes the hair back from Richard’s forehead, caress his cheek, his jaw, traces the line of his nose before moving down his neck and settles on his shoulder.

Richard gazes at him with wide-open eyes, feels his heartbeat spike up, squirms a bit – he needs some friction, he _really_ does – but doesn’t say anything, trusts Till to keep making him feel good.

Till smiles at him, as if knowing the thoughts dancing in his mind – and maybe he does, Richard half-wonders, floating on a cloud of warm contentment, a freefall without fear – and lets go of his shoulder.

Only to go down, just the tip of his fingers dancing across the skin of his chest. Richard shivers, hears a small moan escape him when Till’s fingers graze against his nipples, sending a little shot of arousal down his spine.

There is nothing painful about it, only the thrill of excitement.

Heartbeat spiking up as Till’s hand goes down and down, Richard tugs at his restraints, feels the tie slip away and immediately stops, a guilty expression on his face. Till stares at him, one eyebrow raised, lets go of his neck to touch the knot – not entirely dissolved, but barely there anymore – and raises both hands to tighten it once more.

Richard watches him do with anxious eyes, chews on his lower lip hard enough that his skin starts to tingle with sensitivity.

Till tuts at him, places one hand on his neck, the other on his shoulder.

“None of that,” he murmurs, and squeezes his shoulder gently. “Alright?”

Richard nods, a bit shy, raises his head slightly for a kiss, relaxes as it is given to him – both of Till’s hands cupping his cheeks, his lips making him melt against the mattress, his warm body pressed against his.

His eyelashes flutter when the kiss ends and he tries to curl against Till’s body, eager for more contact. Till pets his hair for a moment, and then let go of his face, one hand finding its way back against his neck.

“Good,” Till murmurs, and Richard shivers a little at the word.

Forest-green eyes twinkle as he gazes at Till, and his cheeks get warm as his lover starts caressing him again, moving down the line of his stomach, following a trail until he reaches the hem of the sheets.

The promise of more is waiting underneath and he looks at Till with wide, begging eyes, nibbling on his lower lip again.

Till smiles at him and removes his hand from his neck, shifts a little lower on the mattress.

Time is suspended as Till’s hand moves slowly, inch by inch, under the sheet, until Richard feels his touch and moans loudly. Till chuckles, then starts stroking him slowly, languorously, runs his fingers on his stomach lightly for a moment, watches him squirm and wriggle under his touch before stopping.

Richard pants loudly, opens and closes his mouth a few times, blinking, before gazing at him again, a somewhat desperate expression on his face.

Till returns his gaze, silent, still smiling.

Time stops its course for a moment and comes crashing down as Till pushes the sheet away, and then moves from his spot. Richard watches him in silence, nibbling at his lower lip as his lover settles between his legs, tapping the inside of his thighs to get him to open them a bit more.

“You can tug on the tie all you want,” Till tells him in a low voice before swallowing him whole.

Richard moans loudly, and tries not to buck too hard into Till’s mouth. The tension that has been building up ever since Till tied him to the bed seems amplified now, and he doesn’t even think of trying to hold back his moans as Till does his best to make him fly on cloud nine.

It’s a mixture of warmth and tongue and teeth grazing along utterly sensitive skin, of firm, calloused hands holding him down, of fingers tracing lines inside his thighs.

It’s slow and it’s fast, it’s rough and it’s tender, it’s soft and it’s brutal, and it’s making him lose his mind, teasing him, taunting him, playing him like an instrument until he cannot think at all anymore and abandons himself into Till’s talented mouth.

When he comes by his senses again, Till has moved upwards on the bed and is pressed against him, caressing his wrists and pressing kisses against his temple. His lips are cool against Richard’s heated skin, and he peers at the bottle of water standing on the nightstand, less full than before.

“How are your shoulders?” Till murmurs, lips moving against the shell of his ear.

Richard hums a bit, tries to focus on the part of his body that is not spent, and moves his head to kiss Till gently.

“The tie can stay,” he murmurs, before amending his words. “Or it can go, as you prefer.”

He can handle the position a bit longer – especially as he knows it wouldn’t take much work to have his feeble restraints get untied – and prefers to leave the decision into Till’s hands, as he knows how much his lover enjoys seeing him in a bit of bondage.

Till presses a series of kisses along the line of his jaw before reaching for his wrists, and loosen the knot while still kissing him, letting the tie drop next to Richard’s head on the pillow.

Richard immediately moves his arms back in front of him, rolls his shoulders a little to get the circulation going, and smiles as Till reaches for his wrists, already massaging them.

“Untying me so soon?” he asks teasingly, stretching gracefully to press a kiss against Till’s cheek.

Till doesn’t say anything, only nods, gazes at him with a bashful expression on his face.

“I want to hold your hands,” he says in a voice so low that Richard has to strain to hear it.

A big, dopey smile stretches on his face and he turns around, plasters himself so quickly against Till that his lover doesn’t expect it and fall on his back with a little _humpf!_ of surprise.

Richard giggles, kisses him with an open mouth and the eagerness of a new lover, holds on Till’s shoulder with one hand and cups his face with the other, playing with his hair as the kiss draws out. He feels the linen pants of Till’s pressing against his sensitive skin, feels his eagerness – hard, unyielding against his thigh – and smothers the moans that come out of his mouth while Till’s hands try to grab as much of him as possible.

He is panting when he breaks the kiss, and Till looks at him with stars in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” he mutters before kissing the tip of Richard’s nose.

“And you’re wearing a bit too many clothes,” Richard says in return, wriggling against him.

“That I do,” Till says in a low, rumbling voice, before taking off his pants in one swift move.

Richard helps him get rid off them entirely and throws them on the ground for good measure – not missing the grunt of relief that accompany the gesture – before plastering himself against Till once more.

Till has moved until he is lying on his side again and Richard mirrors his position, kisses him again, one hand holding on to his shoulder and the other slowly stroking his face, while Till is holding him by the back of his neck. Their legs are pressed together and they kiss lazily, intently until he can feel a tentative hand moving in between his thighs.

“Please?” Till murmurs between two kisses and Richard smiles, shifts a bit so that he _oh_ -so accidentally presses against his erection.

“Give me a few more minutes and I’m all yours to play with,” he says in a low, heated voice.

The rumble that comes deeply from Till’s throat brings a satisfied smirk to his lips, that soon turns into a little yelp as Till grabs his ass firmly.

“I could start playing with you just now… right?” Till murmurs, voice dark and heavy, and Richard feels the first hint of arousal pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

His smirks grows bigger.

“You can do whatever you want,” he answers slowly, before putting his hand on Till’s erection with clear intent.

Till kisses the smirk out of his face.

Later, much later, he presses kisses against the muscled line of Till’s muscled shoulders, tastes the salt of his sweat, keeps one arm across his stomach and smiles when Till intertwines their fingers together before bringing his hand to his mouth and kissing his palm gently.

They watch the sky turn pink in silence, sated, contented, and Richard feels more at peace than he has in a long time.

Sometimes, his life is a dream come true, and he wants to keep these moments engraved in his memory forever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please consider leaving a comment.


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